Call of Duty
by Silraen
Summary: Set in the 4th Age of Middle-earth - basically, the title sums it up. Written by Silraen and Navana {AA}


Call of Duty

_Written by Silraen and Navana_

The call had come down from the scouts of Osgiliath. Orc forces wer mustering at the Crossroads.

With all swiftness, adorned in all his kingly splendor, Elessar Telcontar, King of Gondor and Arnor strode swiftly out from the throne room of Minas Tirith, the throng of people within the hall just as great as those beyond. "Tell your captains to gather their men," he turned and told Faramir, who ran just as quickly beside him. "We must ride with all swiftness... This will end today."

"Yes, milord," Faramir nodded, looking back towards the great hall. "Aragorn..." he softly spoke to him as he stopped in his tracks. "Might I go farewell my wife?"

With a brief smile, Aragorn nodded. "Of course. Then get to the gate as swiftly as you can." Inwardly, he too thought of his wife. With a long look towards the great White Tower of Ecthelion, which behind lay his home, and knew that he too would have farewells to give.

Leaving the bustle of the Great Hall behind, Aragorn made his way back to his home, a sudden foreboding sorrow entering his heart. Every moment he was away from his home, from Arwen, and from Eldarion, he longed to see them, and the dread never did leave him of what would happen were he not to return. As his step slowed when he entered the great corridor, he looked to the familiar wooden door, his hand reaching for it with a careful touch in hopes that his armor would not wake anyone from a peaceful slumber.

Even as the sun's dawning rays broke through the gray clouds high in the heavens, a lone figure stood standing still and silent upon the balcony, her graceful form outlined in the glittering sunlight. With keen eyes, Queen Arwen surveyed the gathering forces of Minas Tirith; watching young men saddle their valiant steeds, their wives standing close at their sides, their faces were grim, yet determined. Children gazed up at their fathers in awe and love as they clutched with small fists at their mothers' skirts. _Most of them,_ Arwen thought, _are old enough to understand that their fathers are going to battle...and that they may never return._

With a silent prayer, her eyes veiled themselves behind her dark lashes, and her thoughts strayed to Eldarion, who was asleep within his cradle. Would he see his own father again? _Of course he shall,_ Arwen silently berated herself. _Aragorn is strong and adamant in his will...never has he fallen in battle...and never will he._

With a final last breath, he slowly pushed open the door. A sweeping glory of the sun's rays washed over his armor, refractions of light glistening onto the walls about the room. No hesitation was there in his eyes as they fell on the figure before him, engulfed entirely in the day's brilliance. The earth itself seemed silent for a moment as he looked upon her, taking every moment in. Though, with his first laden step, he broke the world's stillness; the sound of his heavy armor echoing from the walls.

She turned as she heard his approach, her eyes meeting his as he stepped out onto the balcony. Silently, she came forward so she could stand before him. Her eyes traveled from his shining armor, highly polished and bearing the insignia of their Kingdom, to his crystalline depths. She could see the worry, the resignation, in his eyes...she had seen the expression before. So many times before this day she had seen those emotions...never had she wished to see them again. With the gentlest of touches, Arwen reached out and caressed his cheek.

_"Im palannoro, ind gur nin u-innas misto o le nef nin..."_ With a wan smile he looked to her, longing so deeply this day did not have to come; that their realm did not come under siege, nor that he would ever have need to leave her side. _"Meleth nin, im innas telidan."_ Though his words were meant as a comfort to her, they also spoke of the hopes and longings of his heart. The perils of the journey ahead were not lost to him. {'I ride afar, though, my heart will not stray from your side.' 'My love, I will come back. '}

"Of course you shall," she breathed, her other hand coming up to hold the other side of his face, and she gazed deeply into his eyes. Though she knew that she should not feel fear for him, she did. She felt a shadow coming...gathering in darkness, to linger over her heart. The fear that she felt was almost numbing...as if she knew that something would happen to him while he would be gone. She had spoken those words with such tenderness, and yet there had been an almost fierce note in her rich undertones as well.

He had not the words to follow hers, only a small, subtle nod. "We should be gone no more than a week," he spoke, his heart sinking even deeper than before. As gently as he could, he took her hand from his face into his hand, bringing it to his lips slowly. "I wish this had not come to pass... though... It will soon be over."

She nodded, her eyes never leaving his, knowing that now, he needed all of her hope and her strength…and all that she had she willingly gave to him, as she had always done before. "And I will await your return in hope and in faith, _meleth nin._ You are in my prayers and in my thoughts…as much as you are in my heart, _Estel nin."_ And as his lips brushed over her hand, she allowed it slip from his grasp to caress his cheek once more, treasuring this moment…though she knew that it was brief…so very brief. _"Im meleth le."_

_"Uireb im meleth le, Undómiel..."_ A strange foreboding passed over him, causing his gaze to falter from her eyes to the floor beneath him. A yearning sunk deep within his heart began to rise to an urgent notion as he lifted his eyes once more to behold his one true hope and his destiny. In that moment, everything became a blur, and he felt himself falling into her, his lips meeting hers.

Her arms surrounded him tightly, their hearts close together, beating as one. So very tightly did they gasp one another, never wanting to let go. He searched for her strength, and she gave him all she had.

_I will return... I have to..._ Though his heart longed for him to stay, he knew he had to leave. Ever so slowly, he let himself stand fully once more, no hint of a smile upon his face as he considered what awaited him.

Watching him, she lifted her thumb to her lips, then she reached out and pressed it to his own lips, then to his brow, and then she laid her hand over his heart in blessing. _I am with you..._ "May the Grace of the Valar protect you," she whispered, her voice steady and strong for him, even at a whisper.

With a soft, unsteady murmur he nodded. _"Hannon le, Arwen, uireb meleth nin."_

~~

The thunder of hooves echoed across the Pelannor as the call came from the Tower of Ecthelion. The great host of Gondor was returning from the battle.

Upon the crisp late morning air, their banners blew. Streaming with numerous shades of blue and white, tinged with gold, their banners waved. All but one white standard raised at the head of the host. The elegant branches of the white tree and the stars were stained with a deep red. The banner of the King was thick with blood.

The trample of hooves entered the courtyard, progressively slowing to a soft trot then a walk. Soon the entire host stood in still ranks before the awaiting crowd that had gathered.

"The King...the King is injured..." the murmur from the crowd arose, all their faces suddenly grim with fear. "Where is his Queen Undómiel?" Then, suddenly, through the gathering, she came, swiftly running to be at her beloved's side. Even from the highest tower she had seen his banner...she had known what had befallen him.

From near the middle ranks came the King Elessar's horse, adorned in armor, pulling something behind him. Uneasily, Brégo turned to the side. Behind him rolled a rather rickety cart, draped in banners, cloaks and lined with swords, both of Gondor and of the dark creatures they had left to slay.

Within the cart, his head laid back upon a pillow of cloaks and covered in even more dark cloaks of the White City's men, lay the King himself, his eyes closed and his face pale. Beside him knelt Faramir, kneeling with his head bent low. "We are here, Aragorn," he quietly uttered.

For a long, still moment, it seemed he had fallen into slumber, but with a troubled breath, finally, Aragorn spoke, his voice scarcely loud enough to be heard. "Is she here?"

"I am, _meleth nin..._ I am here," she whispered, kneeling beside the cart, taking his hand within hers. Her other hand caressed his brow, and it was hot to the touch. Her breath caught in her throat and she looked to Faramir, her eyes reflecting her fear.

"We were overtaken..." Faramir tried to explain, seeing Éowyn approaching Arwen from behind, her eyes falling to the ground beneath her feet as her eyes welled with tears. "The orcs pushed towards him, but attacked from a hidden position as well... and he was struck down, milady..." Even as he spoke, the Steward's voice was thick with sadness and worry. "Forgive me... I should have been more watchful..."

Arwen shook her head. "Nay, Faramir, you did all you could have... Do not blame yourself." She looked down to her beloved. Fear's icy fingers probed at her stricken heart, but she must be strong. The Queen of Gondor could not weep now in front of her people...it would frighten them. They must know that all is not lost. Aragorn would fight through this. He must! "We must take him to his chambers. Now," she said, standing, though she kept her love's hand in hers.

Faintly from beneath his sweat-drenched locks of hair, suddenly came a weak, weary smile as his eyes opened. "Arwen..." he mused.

Softly, she hushed him, though her hand tightened within his ever so slightly. "I am here, beloved... I will not leave your side," she murmured as they began to walk. Éowyn lead Brégo, who knew that something had befallen his master, for his ears were laid back and his head was cast low, and even as she gently stroked the stallion's brow, her own eyes were filled with worry as she looked over her shoulder at her King.

The cart shook suddenly over an uneven stone in the road. In her hand, she could feel Aragorn's grip tighten to his fullest strength, scarcely enough to feel the squeeze. With gritted teeth, he stifled the cry that longed to escape him. "Do not te-tell them what has befallen me..." his voice trembled with the effort, his eyes upon the crowd of onlookers.

"Of course, Estel... Of course..." she murmured softly, her other hand caressing his forehead soothingly, then running her fingers through his hair. "We shall be home soon, meleth," she whispered. "Stay strong..." _Though I know how much you wish to cry out...I can hear you...ah...beloved...we are almost there...stay strong for me..._

With a long look to his King, Faramir closed his eyes, knowing full well what he should do, though he wished not to leave his Lord's side. To keep Aragorn's wounds secret, he would have to go to the houses himself, and ask for the healers. "Milady, I must take my leave to fetch the healers then..." he allowed the words to escape him, unmarred by the turmoil that rose in his heart.

She nodded, but before he could turn away, she placed her other hand on his arm and she looked into his eyes. "Thank you, Faramir." There was more than one meaning in her words.

His eyes unable to keep dry, he nodded. "I will go with all haste." With his soft words and a last long look towards his King, he ran with all swiftness to reach the healers.

As the cart passed up the long winding roads, the adornment of the cart became clearer to Éowyn as she led Brégo. Each blade of Gondor was a fallen man, beneath it was those he had vanquished. At the feet of the King rested a pile far greater than those about him, though no blade rested upon it, rather, it lay beside him.

Slowly, Aragorn's eyes slid open, a haze covering his once vibrant eyes. Though it took him but a moment to look towards the one thing in which he sought, the face of his beloved. "Arwen..."

"What is it, _meleth nin?"_ How she wished she could ease his pain now. She placed her other hand over his that she held and she lifted it to her lips. _I am here for you...we are almost home. It is not far now..._

_"Le na bain..."_ he murmured softly, a weary smile creeping upon him. The corners of his lips were stained with blood. Another bump in the road shook the cart, causing the cloaks to shift ever so slightly, revealing the beginnings of make-shift bandages. {You are beautiful…}

Gently, she squeezed his hand, then taking her own hand, she kissed her thumb and then rested it upon his lips. How the tears threatened to fall! But she must stay strong for not only Estel, but for all her people as well. Gently, she pulled the cloaks tighter around him, to hide the bandages from the view of all.

In her grasp, she felt his hand beginning to tremble. By the minute he grew weaker. Finally, however, they passed the seventh gate and were passing swiftly across the great courtyard and towards the house of the King and Queen.

A stretcher was brought out immediately for the King, and many healers followed in its wake. Arwen knelt beside him and looked deeply into his eyes. _"Meleth,_ stay strong...stay with me...listen to my voice...do not give to the shadows, Estel. They have brought a pad and we are going to move you on to it. _If it hurts,_ she whispered in the tongue of the Eldar, _take my hand and grasp it as hard as you can, meleth."_

With scarcely a nod of acknowledgement, he looked to her, his eyes slowly sliding closed once more.

Very carefully, the healers began to lift the cloaks from him, coming to layers soaked in blood as they neared the bottom. As they pulled away the last cloak, a rich, gold-embroidered cloak, Faramir's, the true direness of the King's need became clear to all. His once elaborate and elegant tunic he wore beneath his armor was torn and shredded. The shoulder of the arm the Lady Undómiel held was wrapped entirely with bandages thick with crimson. Another wrap encased his other arm, which lay still at his side.

Slowly, he was lifted from the cart. Though the healer's hands were gentle, Arwen could see that it pained him so very much to be moved.

Nearly, he felt himself slipping away. Though, no matter how great the pain, he could not take her hand tighter than what he kept it by. But finally, a tight wince took his face.

And in seeing his wince, she gently caressed his hand, softly murmuring encouraging words to him. At last they moved him to the pad and they lifted him, and bore him hastily, yet smoothly away to his chambers.

As they reached the doorway, Faramir stood, holding it open. "Go swiftly..." he directed, allowing those who bore the King to enter. Beside him, Éowyn came, taking his arm and lifting his downcast chin to her face, nodding softly, trying to find the light in the distraught darkness in his eyes.

Once they had laid Aragorn upon the bed, Arwen allowed her hand to slip from his, though only for a moment, as she went to where Faramir and Éowyn stood by the door. The Steward's eyes were still glazed with his grief, glinting with his shame. "You had done all you could," the Queen said softly to him. "Have no shame, Faramir. He is alive," she paused, and suddenly it was hard for her to speak above a quiet murmur, "and that is what truly matters. Our King is alive. You need not linger here…the healers and I shall look after him now." She looked to Éowyn and gave her a small, yet encouraging smile. "He will overcome this." _Though, in my heart, I fear so for him..._

Though Faramir heard her words, he longed so deeply not to leave. Aragorn, as he was to the three of them, was more than their King. What seemed so long ago, Aragorn had saved him from death itself, and more, he had great and deep respect for him even without the title of King beneath his name. "I will let you be with him." He would give his Lord and Lady space and time, though he would wait and hope, just as he knew all would.

Within, the healers moved fleetly, preparing herbs and re-dressing the clumsily bound wraps that were, no doubt, an attempt on the behalf of his men. The King lay, his eyes a dismal gray of haze. There was no earth beneath him, no sky above, only the searing emptiness and the fulminating pain.

After Faramir and his White Lady took their leave, Arwen turned back to her beloved. He lay there, his body completely still, his chest rising and falling gently beneath the linen sheets. His eyes, usually so very vibrant with their own light and spirit were now glazed in shadow and pain. Fighting to keep her fear and grief at bay, she moved toward him, her eyes unseeing of all else; the room, the healers, everything, save only him. Slowly, she took a seat upon a chair beside his bed, and she took his hand within hers once more, then laying another to his brow. It was yet warm, even though the healers had sponged him with chill water straight from the mountain streams. She did not know if he was aware of anything save the pain that he felt, though she caressed his hand soothingly, stroking his matted hair from his heated brow.

He felt her touch, somehow, yet, it felt so numb, so faint. Gradually, his eyes slid closed, weariness taking him deep into the tunnels of sleep, his body seeking something deeper than slumber.

At last the healers finished wrapping his wounds and they turned to their Queen, awaiting their next orders. She looked to them and gave them a faint smile, thanking them for all they had done. Bowing and curtsying, they took their leave of the Royal couple, knowing that their Queen Undómiel would call for them if they were needed.

_Aragorn...meleth nin...stay strong for me...please..._ She grasped his hand within both of hers, her eyes unable to look away from his still face. _You are wandering within the realms of sleep...and of shadow. Do not give in to the shadow, meleth. You must not..._ How even his hand burned within her pale, cold ones. Gently, she took the cloth and pressed it to his brow once again. _Do not wander where I cannot follow..._ And then, she could no longer withhold her tears, and they trickled down her cheeks, glinting like small diamonds in the glow of the candlelight. Fear took hold of her heart and she lay her head gently upon his shoulder, her tears of grief finally loosed.

Within he felt himself sinking, as if plunging deep into the Sea. Though his thoughts strayed, they clung to something - a line up from the depths. _U-caro tiri enni talt na gurth... Im innas uireb meleth le Undómiel..._ Even as his thoughts sunk deeper and deeper, the line held him back, he could not fall. {'Do not watch me slipping to death...' 'I will eternally love you, Undómiel…'}

A weak, trembling hand lifted, caressing her back gently. _"Im palannorath, ind gur nin u-innas misto o le nef nin... Ten u-caro misto o le..."_ he mused, scarcely able to speak. {I rode afar, though, my heart would not stray from your side... It could not stray from you...}

Though his voice was faint, she heard it...no longer was he wandering in the realms of shadow that had separated them. She lifted her head from his shoulder to gaze into his eyes. Gently, she stroked his hair, her tears yet glimmering upon her cheeks. _"Im meleth le, Estel, meleth nin... Im meleth le,"_ she whispered.

_"Im thinnas..."_ As her head lifted slowly, he felt the pressure return to his wound and pain ripped through the tranquil moment. {I fade...}

"Nay, _meleth..."_ she whispered, her hands gently grasping his own, caressing. "Do not..." Though slowly, she could feel him losing consciousness - yet he could not! He must sleep...not wander through places where she could not follow and protect him. _Do not fade from me...!_ Closing her eyes, she reached out to softly embrace his agonized thoughts with her own, and gently she lowered him into velvet darkness. Though she could not ease his bodily pain, she could ease his troubled mind. The fire and agony of his thoughts nearly consumed him, yet she fought it all back with brilliant light; golden, luminous, as if it were the very sun that encased him. Yet unlike the sun, the light did not burn, rather it warmed him through and through, wrapping him in eternal luminescence. The fire lashed out, its vibrant scarlet tongues whipping, trying to get through to him, and the shadow grew in its monstrosity, trying to overcome the golden light with its ever-blackness - but the efforts of those evils were in vain, for even as fire and shadow gathered in strength, so did the light, and it shone with glorious brilliance unsurpassable.

Though he felt as if there was nothing more, through the shadow, he felt a luminance break through, warming him with life. Beyond the searing pain rose an even greater power, filling him with vivid splendor like no other. Upon her back, his hand, which had stilled for a long moment, unable to hold the strength needed to move, began to caress her delicate skin softly. _"Meleth nin..."_

_He has returned to me..._ She opened her eyes, and the wondrous light that seemed to pour from them shone brightly, glimmering. "Beloved..." she whispered, and though he was awake, her thoughts still embraced his own softly with the golden light, protecting him yet from the threat of the fire and shadow. She gazed at him, releasing his other hand to caress his brow.

Through the weakness that reflected in his eyes, there was still resilience against the endearing strength of death itself that threatened to draw him so deep into its grasp. "I am here..." he spoke as if trying to comfort her. Though he himself was wracked with pain, the pain in his heart was far greater, suddenly, knowing that he nearly left her.

"Yes, _meleth,_ you are," she whispered. He had nearly left her...he had nearly slipped into the realms of mists and shadow...and yet he had not... The relief and joy that suddenly bloomed forth in her heart was so great it seemed to almost overtake her as she leaned closer, silently searching his face and heart. "You are here with me... Do not feel pain, here," she told him softly, pressing her hand slightly upon his heart, "for there is no need, beloved. You are here."

"In your company, how can there be sorrow?" he asked, scarcely able to utter the words, but content to do so.

Smiling, she continued to caress him, her cool, soothing hands soft and silken against his heated flesh - though his fever was now running low. "You should sleep, _meleth nin..._and allow not only your body to recover, but your mind as well," she whispered gently.

_Should I never wake... "Im meleth le, Undómiel..._ The very bounds of life itself cannot keep my heart from loving you." The fear of never waking came to him, and the urgency to keep his eyes awake became present. "And though I long to take your council, Arwen, I cannot... To sleep and never wake would be far worse than to know that I fade."

_You do not fade...for if you were, the light within your depths that I see would be quenched...and never could the Twilight in your eyes fade to nothingness..._ "You do not need to fear that you will never wake...for I shall be with you...within you, all through the night. You shall not slip from my embrace, Estel," she whispered, moving so she might lie beside him upon the bed. "This I promise you, beloved."

His breath came unsteadily and his once sturdy frame trembled with shudders of anguish and immense pain. But he would not succumb to the fear and the pain. The burning fire of his skin ignited his brow the sweat further. With all his burdens, however, he would not surrender, he knew not how to. "Ai, calan o gur nin, anna im i-bellas..." {Ay, love of my heart, give me the strength...}

Softly, she bent and kissed his brow, keeping one hand upon his heart, and then she eased down beside him, resting her head near his. Her sweet breath softly blew upon his neck as she found his hand, gently slipping her fingers within his. "I will, _meleth nin Estel._ Have no fear of darkness...it will not come for you." And softly, she began to sing. It was a song without words, neither Elvish nor Westron, yet it spoke the harmony of her heart, awashing him with light of brilliant gold.

Between them sang the unspoken musings of their joined hearts, beating as one in two breasts. _Release me not from this blessed miracle of life... Come mighty shadow of death! I will fight you to the bitter end if need be, but I will succeed... I will endure..._ "I will endure..."

In gradual peace, he drifted into slumber, undisturbed by fear or pain, but fully absorbed in the breath of life within him.

~~

Deep in the same sleep, he did not awake until the next morn, the sun's rays glistening onto the red-stained white sheets. With a soft stirring, he began to return to consciousness, his head swimming with the staggering pain as it flooded him.

And his Queen still lay beside him, one of her arms pillowing his head. She had watched him...had protected him...all through the night, yet she was not weary. As he began to stir, she moved closer and laid one of her hands to his brow. _You no longer burn of fever...yet I still feel the pain of your wounds as if they are my own..._

Slowly, he let his eyes slide open, her face the first thing to come into view. Through the pain, he produced a wan smile. _"Meleth nin..._ You are still here..."

"Of course, beloved... Never would I stray from your side," she murmured, smiling lovingly as she kissed his lips softly and carefully.

Silently, he thanked the world for life itself, for it gave him this moment. _"Hannon le,"_ he mused.

Softly, she hushed him by pressing her lips to his once more. _Never do you need to thank me, beloved..._ Tenderly, she stroked his cheek and pulled away slightly to gaze into his eyes.

To the slightest first movement, he was so suddenly reminded of his weakness... his deep wounds. A seething breath destroyed the peace.

Concern alighted her eyes as she sensed his pain and she rose from the bed to walk to the small table in the middle of the chamber. Her back was to him for a moment before she turned, bearing with her a steaming cup. It smelled of ground leaves and herbs...and perhaps even a bit of sweet honey. Carefully, she knelt upon the bed, knowing that he had not the strength to lift his head to drink it, or even to lift the cup itself from her grasp. "Here, _meleth,"_ she murmured, gathering the back of his head within the palm of her hand, helping him. "This will numb the pain."

_"Hannon le, vanimelda,"_ he softly uttered. Graciously, he sipped the warm concoction. The soothing feeling passed through him as the herbs began to take their effect.

He did not stop drinking the medicine until the last bit of it was drained. "Does it ease you?" she asked him softly, placing the empty mug upon the nightstand, then carefully eased his head back to the feather pillows, and she placed a palm upon his forehead, then moved it to his cheeks. Nay...she would not have to worry about his fever coming back to haunt him this day.

Managing a wan smile, he turned his head to face her. "Indeed... It does..." though he was not treading upon the surface of the darkness' deepest chasm, there was still a great weary pain within his words. His mind strayed for a moment back to the moment it happened, his eyes falling to his men as they charged valiantly towards him in a bold last attempt. Had many of them fallen? Had any man fallen for the sake of his King? The thoughts permeated through all else for a long moment. "Arwen... How many others fell?"

"I do not know, Estel, though I may find the answer if it will ease you," she murmured gently, knowing how much love and faith Aragorn had in his men...and if it had not been for them... She closed her mind to the thought and laid her hand atop his for a moment. "I shall not leave you alone long, beloved," she said before leaving the room in search of the Steward, or perhaps even his wife.

The Queen of Gondor need not stray too far to find the Steward and the White Lady of Rohan. Just outside the door, they sat on two chairs that had been brought for them. She was fast asleep, her head resting gently upon his shoulder and her long, soft blonde tresses spilt over his front. Upon her head, his own rested, his eyes watching invisible thoughts as they ran across the stone wall before him. Neither seemed to have left since they had arrived.

Smiling at the sight of their Steward and his wife, resting peacefully, she watched them for a brief moment. Softly, Arwen murmured, "Faramir?"

As if stirred from the deepest slumber, Faramir's eyes turned to Arwen, worry a present thing in his usually joyous expression. Though most men of Gondor possessed a deep love and respect for their king, none had a higher devotion to Aragorn than Faramir. "How is he?" he asked as he tenderly removed his head from Éowyn's.

Arwen smiled. "He is well...indeed...very well." She silently thought to what had happened the night before...and how he had almost faded from her...and how she had pulled him back to the light...back to life...back to love. "In fact, it was he who asked me to come and find you."

"What does he need?" Faramir asked, eager to do anything. It was so clear that he longed to do something. He had felt useless as they sat outside the door for the full night. The Kingdom was being handled through messengers to the King's house and all council was to be taken another day by the commands of the Steward. And though he wished it were not true, Faramir was ruling in the King's stead for a short time.

Beside him, Éowyn stirred. After only a brief moment, her eyes fluttered open, first falling to Faramir, then to Arwen as she sat up fully. "Good morning, milady," she spoke softly. "How fares our King?" Far earlier, deep in the night, Faramir had bid her to return to their home to sleep, but she would not leave, she could not go.

She smiled gently at Éowyn. "He is well...though weary. He asked me to come to you...he wishes to know...how many men fell in battle." Her eyes fell to Faramir. "For I know that he will not rest fully until he knows."

Faramir paused for a moment, forcing himself to recall the numbers that only gave a verbal face to those whom they actually lost. "There were five," he replied regretfully.

She bowed her head for a moment, then looked to him. "I have no doubt in my mind that they fought bravely...even to death," she murmured. "Their deaths were not in vain...and they shall be honored." To give their lives to save their King...such devotion deserves more than only recognition. She smiled gently at Faramir, then her eyes flickered to Éowyn.

Éowyn's gaze glimmered with emotion. Though long ago had she let her passion for her King fade more to loyalty, she still greatly loved him. "Indeed..." Those who had fallen in battle had already been laid in their homes amongst their grieving families, and she knew that she would go to each as soon as she was assured her Lord was well and far into recovery.

Faramir's eyes were vivid with a similar devotion to Aragorn, practically now his brother. "They will be... though... even those who grieve ask for their King..." the pain in his words resonated in the thin air. "What should we tell them?"

"You may tell them that their King is recovering, and that there is no need for fear." _No longer is there need to fear for his life...he will not pass into the realms of shadow!_ She could see the worry in both Faramir's and Éowyn's gazes, and she knew that though they trusted her word that their Lord was recovering, they still needed to see him with their own eyes. "Later, you may come and see him, if you will," she told them softly. "But for now, he needs time to rest."

"But of course, milady," Faramir softly replied, her words casting a new light over him: relief.

Éowyn, who had fallen silent, looked up to Arwen, her news was heartening. "Do you need anything?" Though she could do nothing directly for her King, she could still serve her Queen in an equal manner.

"Nay," Arwen smiled. "But I thank you for your offer." Her eyes flickered from Éowyn's to the door, and she said softly, "I told him that I would not leave him alone for long... I should return. Thank you, Faramir, Éowyn. I shall send for you both later this day." Truly, she appreciated all that the Steward and his wife had to offer to her and more importantly, to her husband. They had such loyalty for them both that it, at times, astounded her.

"Farewell," Éowyn softly mused, a wan smile of encouragement and hope appearing on her fair face.

Faramir nodded. "We will await your summons."

Arwen smiled and nodded to them. Gently, she opened the great door and stepped softly inside, closing it quietly behind her.

The room was stiff with silence. Restless, Aragorn lay, his jaw set tight as he fought off a ripple of pain, nearly letting himself succumb to its might. Unsteadily, he drew in a tight breath. Something was grasping at him, trying to pull him under once more.

Swiftly, she came to him, her hand grasped his and the other she pressed to his brow. Closing her eyes, she once again enfolded his agony into her, so that now it was not only his, but she shared it also. Her own breath grew unsteady as she felt the pain, the shadow, looming over their hearts, and yet the golden light suddenly came once more, shining with as much brilliance as the day.

Whether it was spoken or simply heard, she could not tell when his words came to her. _"Meleth nin..."_ Through the blinding burning sensation, a single irksome point became clear. His right side burnt like the hottest fire. Something was clearly wrong. "How many men?" he feigned his own well-being, not realizing she could feel it, though it had been greatly lessened.

She looked to him, her thoughts still encasing his own like a mother would encase her child in the safety of her arms. Her hand moved from his brow to his side. Even through his shirt and the bandage she could feel the fire from the wound. Her own side tightened in agony as another wave rippled through them both. "You are hurting," she whispered, her breath uneven as she gently lifted the shirt hem. Blood had soaked the bandage with crimson.

Even as her gentle touch passed over the wound, he felt a blow from the darkness, nearly blinding him with shadow. A seething, trembling breath shook his weakened frame. A cry of pain sat on the tip of his tongue, but he would bite it back with all he had left of his strength. "Arwen..." he softly mustered her name from his lips.

Softly, she hushed him as she unwrapped the bandage. Her slender fingers were cool against his heated skin, and she turned for a brief moment to dip a silken cloth into a bowl of steaming water that had been placed on the nightstand. It smelt of herbs and flowers. "This may hurt, _meleth,"_ she murmured, "but it will help be rid of this pain." And she pressed the cloth with her most tender and gentlest of touches to his side and held it there, knowing that the medicine would take its effect soon.

The feeling of the warm cloth to his side seemed only to lift the rich scent into his senses, filling them entirely as his body was wracked with an immense wave of tremendous pain. Even as her touch came upon his open wound, she could feel the source of his anguish. A solid, stiff object pitted itself in his side. Just beneath the skin, a fragment of an arrow shaft went overlooked by the healers.

Taking away the cloth, she bent her head to look at the wound. "Oh, _meleth,"_ she breathed, the agony in which he felt could clearly be seen in her eyes and be heard in her voice as once again, the shadow and fire lashed out. She knew that she must try and take it out, for it was not so deep, and she had had training from her father for such wounds as this.

As the potent herb's virtues began to take full effect, the pain they shared subsided. All his aches turned to faded numbness.

With all tenderness her gentle fingers could muster, she laid a thick cloth beneath the wound with one hand against his skin, and with the other sought the perpetrating shard. Careful not to move him any more than necessary, she lightly grasped the wooden shaft, heedful in removing it without furthering the injury. In mere moments, the fragment was out. As she laid in a cloth, the size of it became astoundingly evident; nearly the length of her fingers. Clearly, this was what had been causing him so much misery.

"There," she whispered, keeping one hand upon the cloth and the other she moved to his hand, gently caressing it. "No longer should your side feel as if it is afire, _meleth."_ Gently, she bent in close, kissing his brow, relief swelling in her heart.

Yet, even as she kissed his brow, he had fallen into a deep, restful slumber. The King of Gondor was not infallible, but had a stronghold never besieged with success. He had a firm stronghold and a soft comfort.

Smiling gently, she moved to the chair beside his bed and lovingly kept his hand within her own even as she still pressed the cloth to his side, allowing the medicine to soak in. _May you sleep peacefully, my beloved... I shall be here, by your side, all the way through._

~~

The hours slid on until nearly dusk when Aragorn stirred once more to consciences. From his still, serene position, his head turned soundlessly to gaze upon Arwen and his hand weakly squeezed hers with a shy, faded joy. _"Meleth nin..."_ his voice beckoned to her with a rested, peaceful tone.

She looked up, her eyes instantly falling to his. Lovingly, she smiled. "How are you feeling, beloved?" she asked, her tone soft as she soothingly caressed his hair from his brow, her other hand gently tightening within his.

"Alive," he uttered, though not to protest the question but rather, as a truthful thought. The light had reached his eyes once more, burning away the clouds that had shaded them.

"Indeed," she smiled, and she brought his hand up to her lips, kissing it softly. "You slept most of the day away, _meleth..._and I can see that it eased you."

"As did your company." Thankful to behold this moment, his smile grew from faded to full. Though there hung pains still in his body, his heart felt free suddenly, and renewed.

As his smile grew, so did hers and she leaned forward, kissing his lips gently.

As her lips passed over his, his eyes closed, absorbing all the wonders of his very breath of life. Though he treaded, he could not fade, not beside her radiance. Alone he felt a great shadow, but in her presence and engulfed in her love, the depths of darkness fell to a glorious luminance. Against her lips, he smiled. _"Hannon le, meleth nin."_

She stroked his cheek as their lips parted and she gazed down at him. _You never need to thank me, meleth nin..._ She smiled. "Faramir and Éowyn were asking after you earlier, Estel. I do believe that they will not rest until they see you with their own eyes. I told them that they could see you this eve, unless, of course, you are too weary?"

"Nay...please, I would have them come." Though his physical strength had yet to return, the strength of his will resided still within him.

"As my Lord wills," she smiled. "I will send word for them to come...and for someone else to come as well." Her eyes glimmering with joy, she rose from the chair to open the door. Soft words were passed between her and a young woman who stood just outside - one of her handmaidens. Then, other voices could be heard as well, a low, fair voice, and then a deeper, soft-spoken voice that resounded throughout the halls. A few moments passed when finally, Arwen came back inside the room, and within her arms, she held Eldarion. The young babe was wide awake, his blue eyes blinking up at his mother. Softly, he cooed and grasped a lock of her unbound tresses. Smiling, she brought him over to Aragorn, kneeling beside him upon the bed.

At the sight of the small boy, Aragorn's eyes were overcome with radiance. _"Mae govannen, Eldarion..."_ he mused as he reached his right hand to caress the babe's silken strands of new hair. His smile only grew, so full it radiated joy itself.

The prince blinked and smiled up into his father's eyes. Softly, he made a sound within his throat and reached out with his other hand to hold Aragorn's index finger. Arwen smiled tenderly as she saw the look in her husband's eyes. It seemed as though he was in complete awe whenever he beheld their son. And truly, as she gazed down upon the boy, her heart was captivated with wonder as well. _Blessed are we, to have one another...and our son...our completion of our vows to one another._

Within, Aragorn knew how much he nearly lost, how much the shadow of death threatened to claim. To live a fearless life is to have nothing left to fear. But here, he now had something to fear for, but greater, he had so many things to love. He had a wife whom he loved above all else, a son, so seemingly perfect and innocent, and finally, the peace of mind free of the doubt of fate. For a long moment, all he could do was revel in the life he now had.

After a few moments of quiet peace with their son, there came a soft, almost hesitant knock at the door. Smiling, Arwen's eyes went to Aragorn's. "That must be them," she said softly.

In the doorway, Faramir stood, his hand grasping Éowyn's who stood beside him. Both had a look of extreme weariness about them, but neither were at all hesitant of their actions. Through the door, they both could hear the soft cooing of the prince of Gondor. At the sound, Éowyn smiled. Young Eldarion was always a joyous sight.

"You may come in," came the Queen's low voice, and no longer did it seem as restrained as it had earlier, for now it seemed to awash all who heard it with joy and hope.

Slowly the door opened, Faramir's strong hand pushing it wide. With a soft, subconscious smile, he gestured for Éowyn to enter. With a mirror smile of his, she walked in, her hand grasping his as it reached for hers just as he closed the door behind him. "Milord," Faramir bowed, his features so alight to see Aragorn so greatly improved. "I am glad to see you on the mend."

Aragorn could not help but smile at the youthful couple. "And I am glad to be, my friend."

Faramir let out a soft, uncontainable laugh. "What does the King command?" he asked, the words ringing so familiarly in his ears.

"That your hearts walk no more in shadow," the King smiled.

Beside Faramir, Éowyn's soft smile grew as comfort found her heart. She could sense an identical change in Faramir. Their Lord was safe, he would be there still, the renewer he had been for years now.

Arwen watched them, seeing the joy in their eyes as they looked upon their healing King. Her own smile could not be contained as she suddenly heard Eldarion laugh, and she looked down to him. He was smiling at his father, his eyes bright as he let go of his mother's lock and grasped with both, small fists at Aragorn's finger.

Feeling the small fingers grasp his, Aragorn smiled and looked to Eldarion, wishing that he could hold him, but he did not want Eldarion to ever cause him any pain. Again, his eyes turned to the Steward and the White Lady. "Thank you both." Though his voice softened, it was not from pain.

"It was our duty to stand beside you, Aragorn," Faramir allowed the titles and rank fall away to their close friendship. "And more, I would not abandon my brother to death." A glad relief filled Aragorn that he did not expect. _"Hannon le, Faramir."_ Still radiant with joy, his eyes fell to Éowyn, her silence not a mystery to him. "And to you as well, Éowyn."

"I stand beside you, Aragorn, my King," she answered with a resolute peace of mind.

Again Aragorn smiled. _"Hannon le..."_

Respectfully, Faramir bowed again. Éowyn as well. "We will take our leave then and let you rest, milord," Faramir offered.

"Go and rest," Aragorn told them. "And thank you again, my friends..."

Arwen rose from her kneeling position on the bed and with a cooing Eldarion within her arms, she went over to the two of them, opening the door. She smiled at them, her eyes flickering from Faramir to Éowyn. "Thank you both," she murmured softly. "It meant much to him that you came here these eve." Softly, Eldarion cooed again and reached out to touch the sleeve of Éowyn's gown.

Éowyn smiled down at Eldarion as both of them paused briefly in the doorway.

"We would not have been anywhere else," Faramir assured her. "Be sure he rests, for the sooner he is mended, the better."

"Indeed. I will be sure to remind him," she smiled. "Good night, and thank you."

"Good night, _Brennil Undómiel,"_ Faramir softly uttered.

"Good night," Éowyn echoed, her weary gaze falling back on Aragorn for a moment then to Arwen. "Milady."

Arwen smiled at her. "Good night." And the Steward and his wife took their leave of the Royal couple. Smiling still, she gently closed the door behind them and she turned back to Aragorn, who was watching her.

Aragorn's smile began to wan once more. "How long have they waited?" Aragorn asked, sure the door was shut.

"All day for you, _meleth,"_ she said gently, coming over to him, Eldarion now fast asleep in her arms. "They love you, Aragorn. Their devotion runs so deep within them."

Elessar could not help but smile. "Indeed... And lucky am I to have them..." A gentle sigh escaped his lips as his mind wandered further. "Any news of the men? How many are the fallen?"

Slowly she sat upon the chair beside his bed, and the sleeping prince nestled to his mother's breast, breathing deeply. "Five men fell, _meleth nin."_ She gazed at him. "I am sorry, Estel."

At the news, the already fading light heartedness that he held diminished back into sorrow. "Five..." he mused to himself. _Five fathers who will not be returning home to their families... or five sons that will never see the delightment in their parent's eyes... five friends and companions struck down in battle... and five men now ever gone from their posts... Im iest an ti na idh an Thamas o Mandos... Hannon le na gorn..._ {I wish for them to rest in the Halls of Mandos... Thank you for valor...}

With the light of concern in her gaze, she gently reached out to him and brushed her fingers beneath the underside of his chin, silently asking for him to look at her.

As his eyes turned to her, she could clearly read the deep sorrow that ran deep into the depths of his gaze. "Arwen..." he breathed. "These were my men..."

"I know,_ meleth nin..._I know," her fingers softly caressed his cheek. "They fought bravely for you. They had loved you, and that love ran deep within their veins and sounded deep within their hearts. And that love they bore for you went with them into death. They had given their lives so that _you_ may live. Do not blame yourself for their fall, beloved."

Aragorn's eyes closed as he listened to her words. He knew what she spoke was true, yet he never would have any who serve him die for him. Yet these men had. "Five great heroes of the peace of Gondor..." His eyes slid open once more. _To fall before the feet of your King was once seen as faithfulness... But now, to fall for the King himself... that is devotion..._

"Yes, _meleth nin..._ They are," she said softly, gazing into his eyes. She searched his gaze, then she whispered, "Do not dwell upon their deaths, for I know that they would not want you to. But rather, they would wish you to live, to love, for that is what they had died for. They gave their lives for you, and for the life you live...for your dreams and hopes in which they had shared with you."

Slowly, Aragorn managed a small smile once more. _These men... these great banners of true heroism..._ "And for that... I will be ever grateful..." So long ago, he was one of those men upon the battlefield, fighting for lord and land. They embodied the true faith he had seen in those men then, in the men he knew through the great war.

"As will I, beloved," she said softly, smiling gently into his eyes. "And as will he." She looked down to their sleeping son, innocent and unknowing of the dangers that had passed, blissfully dreaming without worry or fear. And yet, because of the men who had fallen to defend their King, Eldarion would grow up and live knowing his father, which, to Arwen, was the most important thing of all.

In his heart, he knew Eldarion nearly lost his father; something he wished would never happen to anyone. So young, Eldarion seemed in absolute peace. _"Meleth nin..._ I am glad... and more, fortunate, that I am here for both you and Eldarion."

"As am I," she murmured, smiling lovingly as she leaned forward to kiss his cheek.

_"Im meleth le, Undómiel..."_ he uttered lifting his right arm, his hand gently caressing her cheek.

_"A im meleth le, Estel,"_ she whispered, smiling. "You need to rest, beloved," she told him gently.

"I have slept most of the day away," he breathed.

"I know," she said. "Yet you still do need rest, _meleth._ You are weary, in both body and mind. Please," she whispered, arising from her chair to stand over him.

"If you wish it, Arwen... I will rest... The new day will rise, the new light through the windows... I will wake to see it." The dreamy look passed over his features as already he began to drift. _"Maar loome, vanimelda... a Eldarion..."_

Lovingly, she bent, kissing his brow even as he fell into slumber, then looked down to their son. _Blessed are we to have one another,_ she thought as she stroked the babe's downy head. _And to have our son. Blessed are we to have such men, as those who fell to defend their King, to arise and fight for us and for all we live and dream for._ She smiled at her husband. _Soon, beloved, our Kingdom shall overcome all lingering darkness, and there will only be peace in our children's' future. Only love, light, and hope._

Though the vows of the faithful, devoted men of Gondor and the strength of the hope in their hearts, Gondor would rise high out of the dark ages of war and flourish. Years of trial, of hardship would ensue as all purpose have. But through all the toil, an age of absolute peace would arise. The King Elessar and Queen Undómiel would reign with justice and compassion, for they loved their people as their own children, which were numerous in themselves. To the ending of the age of Men would Gondor live; for its heart beat in peace, it thrived on the very essence of the soul of its people.

_fin_

Completed on:

1~19~03

~~

_Answer_

I will be the answer at the end of the line

I will be there for you while you take the time

In the burning of uncertainty I will be your solid ground

I will hold the balance if you can't look down

If it takes my whole life I won't break I won't bend

It'll all be worth it worth it in the end

Cause I can only tell you what I know

That I need you in my life

When the stars have all gone out

You'll still be burning so bright

Cast me gently into morning

For the night has been unkind

Take me to a place so holy

That I can wash this from my mind

The memory of choosing not to fight

If it takes my whole life I won't break I won't bend

It'll all be worth it worth it in the end

Cause I can only tell you what I know

That I need you in my life

When the stars have all gone out

You'll still be burning so bright

Cast me gently into morning for the night has been unkind

~Sarah McLachlan~


End file.
